White Python Island was a primitive jungle, teeming with poisonous creatures; even the ordinary-looking flowers by the roadside were carnivorous plants like pitcher plants.
During the day, it was somewhat better, but come nightfall, the darkness was pitch-black, not a hand to be seen in front of one's face, adding to the eeriness and peculiar atmosphere.
Venture three to five miles deeper, and all sorts of venomous snakes emerged from caves and underbrushes, shaking their flattened triangular heads as they stared them down dead.
However, these snakes seemed to hesitate, not daring to attack rashly, merely shaking their flattened triangular heads and frantically flicking their tongues in an attempt to intimidate these unwelcome visitors.
"How strange, where on earth is that Heavenly Spirit Grass? We've almost circled this accursed island, how come we still haven't seen a trace of it?"
Curse Master Du Sen was the first to lose patience, cursing all the way.
